


take a shot in the face of fear

by everqueen



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, F/M, Fake Marriage, we also got some uhhhhh buckwild deities lmaooooo, we got that fake marriage au lads, you could read this as magcretia if you wanted!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everqueen/pseuds/everqueen
Summary: whoops, looks like Magnus and Lucretia need to get fake married to save Barry. team human's doing a great job!(title from "Walk On Water" by Thirty Seconds to Mars)





	take a shot in the face of fear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [polyphobiaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyphobiaa/gifts).



“Well tits.”

“Not especially helpful, Magnus!” Lucretia pants, sprinting through the underbrush.

“It’s true!”

“Barry, where-- Magnus, where’s Barry?”

“What?”

“ _Where’s Barry_?”

“I thought he was right behind us!”

“He had the Light!”

“Well _tits_.”

“Oh my god,” Lucretia skids to a halt and ducks behind a tree.

Magnus keeps running for another few seconds before he circles back around to join her behind her tree. “What?”

“We have the Bluejeans man!” a voice calls through the trees.

“Fuck,” Lucretia hisses.

“He will be sacrificed to the goddess at the height of our greatest festival!”

“Fuck,” Magnus agrees. “Time to punch?”

“They’re necromancers. I don’t think you can get close enough. I’m out of spell slots.”

“You got like, cantrips, right?”

“Sure?”

“Do the voice one.”

“Thaumaturgy?”

“Yeah that one!”

Lucretia shrugs and casts it.

Magnus gathers a huge breath and bellows: “Don’t worry Barry! We’ll come back for you!” His voice booms through the trees, shaking the branches, and Lucretia lets the effect fade.

They get no response.

“Let’s regroup,” Lucretia says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Lup is not going to be happy.”

*

“What do you mean, you _lost him_?” Lup’s voice crackles through the stone.

“To be fair,” Lucretia says, hugging her knees where she sits on top of the scratchy inn blanket, the mattress beneath hard as rock. “His dumb ass got himself caught.”

“What did our dear Barold do this time, Creesh?” comes Taako’s voice over the distinct whoosh of Lup setting something, hopefully something non-essential, on fire.

“The wizards who have the Light are necromancers,” Lucretia says. “He wanted to look at their summoning circle and got noticed.”

“He does have shitty stealth rolls,” Taako says contemplatively.

“Magnus is gathering information right now,” Lucretia says. “Or getting drunk. One of the two.”

“Probably both, knowing Mags.”

“ _Fuck_ this world,” Lup growls.

“Lulu, you just gotta learn to kick it like cha’boy,” Taako says soothingly. “Think of it like a vacay.”

“Alright,” comes Davenport’s voice. “I understand some of us are a little… restless, being stuck on the ship, but Magnus, Barry, and Lucretia can handle themselves just fine.”

“Woo, team human!” Magnus cheers, coming back into the room just in time to hear that last sentence, bearing a tray laden with dinner and a beaming smile.

“Shut up, Magnus,” Lucretia says as patiently as she can, noting the door cracking open across the hall. “Always goofs with you,” she says, rising and closing their own door, making sure her voice is loud enough to be heard in the hall. “We all know there’s no such thing as other races.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Magnus says, nodding over and over when he catches her meaning. “I mean, duh? Not like we know any elves or dwarves or gnomes or whatever, haha!”

“Fantasy Jesus Christ,” Lucretia mutters, locking the door. “What did you find out?”

“This is the worst world ever--”

“No it’s not.”

“Their big festival is in like, 2 days? And it’s kinda weird.”

“How so?”

“We need to get married.”

Lucretia spits out her wine while Taako and Lup howl through the stone, Magnus smiles innocently as Merle’s gruff voice crackles through. “Hey! I’m supposed ta be the guy doin all the marriages for this crew!”

“Sorry old man!” Magnus says brightly. “No can do! No dwarves, remember?”

Merle grumbles as Davenport again comes through, their captain having apparently taken the stone from the still cackling twins. “What exactly is going on?”

“Yeah, their whole big festival thing?” Magnus says, chowing down on a turkey leg as Lucretia dabs at the wine stain on her shirt. “It’s apparently only for married couples, so like. We gotta be married if we wanna get in there and save Barry.”

“Shit,” Lucretia says, deadpan.

“Lucretia, I know you’re gay--”

“Mostly.”

“But they have the Light _and_ they have Barry.”

“Come on, Lucy,” Magnus says winningly, batting his eyelashes at her as he flops down on the bed, propping his head up on his hands right in front of her. “Will you platonically marry me so we can save our buddy and this whole plane?”

“How romantic,” Lucretia says dryly. “But when you put it that way, how can I say no?”

“Woo!” Magnus cheers, jumping off the bed and picking her up, spinning her around a few times as Taako and Lup cheer through the stone, Taako still laughing.

“I’m gonna be the best platonic husband you’ve ever had,” Magnus promises as he sets her on her feet.

“You know, I’m only surprised it’s taken you this long to ask,” Lucretia says, deadpan.

“Alright, you two,” Davenport says. “Come up with a plan and let us know. If we have to come in Lup a-blazing, we will.”

“We’ll try the stealth approach first, Captain,” Lucretia says. “Not that it’s Magnus’s strong suit--”

“True!”

“But we’ll keep you updated.”

“Good. Starblaster out.”

“Take pictures!” Lup calls as Davenport cuts the connection.

“Okay,” Lucretia sighs. “Let’s just pretend--”

“Well,” Magnus says, drawing out the word in the way that tells Lucretia she’s not going to like what comes next. “About that...”

“Just tell me.”

“It’s a whole… thing,” he says apologetically. “Like, we can’t just _say_ we’re married, they have to have it on record.”

Lucretia stares at him. “So we actually have to get real fake married.”

“Yep!”

Lucretia looks at him, and then at the food, and then she picks up her wine glass again and drains it. “Fuck it, let’s do this.”

*

The day of Lucretia’s fake wedding dawns bright and cool, the small town outside the massive necromantic complex bustling. Apparently it’s common practice to wait until the day before the Feast of the Grand Aubergine to get married, so as to begin their honeymoon “blessed by the goddess”. Magnus makes a dirty joke out of it, because this is Magnus, while Lucretia just rolls her eyes and readjusts her dress.

“You ready?” Magnus calls.

“I just…” Lucretia stares at the full-length mirror, helpfully provided by the tiny chapel where she and half a dozen other dress-wearing people are waiting for their turn. “It’s odd to see myself in purple.”

“You can pull it off,” Magnus says from the other side of the wall, confidence filling his voice. “You can pull anything off, Lucy.”

“He sounds so supportive and confident,” a woman says warmly to Lucretia. She’s in a short, poofy dress of pale lavender. “My girl is always thinking down on herself, but I’m so glad I talked her into wearing the suit. She looks so lovely in it!”

“Right,” Lucretia says, offering her an uncertain smile. She glances back at the mirror and tugs at the dress. It’s a sleek number that the shop owner talked her into, mostly because it was the only one made for someone as tall as Lucretia is. It clings to her body until the knees, where it flares out in a spectacular train of bejeweled finery. The vibrant purple sets off her dark skin beautifully, she’s been assured by Magnus, the shop owner, and everyone in this small room waiting their turn to be married.

“Oh, that’s me!” the woman says as a name is called from outside. “Good luck, dear. May the Grand Aubergine grant you happiness!”

“Thanks,” Lucretia says awkwardly as the woman bustles out of the room. She edges forward to the entrance to wait for her turn. She leans against the wall that separates her and Magnus. “Hey, um, Henry?”

“Henry? Oh! Yeah, that’s me. How ya doing, Lucy?”

Lucretia takes a moment to compose herself, wondering how they’ve even made it this far when Magnus can’t keep his own fake name straight. “You nervous?”

“Not at all,” Magnus says cheerfully. “I can’t wait! Are you?”

“A little.”

“It’ll be great,” Magnus says reassuringly. “We’ll get the Li-- the blessing of the goddess, and we’ll all be happy!”

“Right,” Lucretia says. “Of course.”

“Oh,” someone says wistfully behind her, and Lucretia turns to see the rest of the people looking at her with expressions akin to people watching a particularly adorable puppy. “He sounds wonderful,” the man in front says dreamily, playing with the lace at the top of his dress.

“Right,” Lucretia says awkwardly. “Um, thanks?”

Their fake names are called and Lucretia offers the others a wave as she steps out. Magnus is right there with her, offering her his arm, and for fuck’s sake, he’s wearing a goddamn sleeveless tuxedo and grinning like he’ll never die.

(Lucretia’s seen it happen too many times to really believe that anymore.)

They walk together, arm in arm, into the chapel, which seems more like an arena than anything else. Everything is bathed in purple light thanks to the sun streaming through stained glass windows depicting the Grand Aubergine. The priestess is waiting for them in the center, her robes a shifting kaleidoscope of purple hues, her face scarred with ritual markings that Barry had been in the middle of deciphering when they went on their run for the Light.

She smiles blissfully as Lucretia and Magnus approach, and directs them to extend their right hands. She drapes a rich purple ribbon around them, entwining them together, and then has Lucretia and Magnus grip each other’s forearms, staring into each other’s eyes.

“May the Grand Aubergine watch over and bless this union,” the priestess chants, eyes closed, swaying slightly. “May your love never break.”

She settles glowing hands over their joined arms, a wave of warmth moving through Lucretia, and chants in the strange language that seems to match the scars on her face, and then drops her hands, opening her purple eyes again.

“Congratulations,” she tells them warmly. “Be well. Bask in the love of the Grand Aubergine.”

Magnus stares at the woman for a moment before he whoops loudly and scoops up Lucretia, the purple ribbon still connecting them. “We’re married!” he yells.

“Ma- Henry, please put me down,” Lucretia says.

“Nope!” he says. “Thanks, priestess lady!”

The priestess just raises a hand, a gentle smile on her face, as Magnus runs out of the chapel, Lucretia still in his arms. They emerge onto the busy street and everyone around looks up and claps for a few seconds before going about their business. Several other couples with their own purple ribbons wave, smiling, and finally Magnus puts Lucretia down.

“We’re married!” Magnus says again, grinning.

“We are,” Lucretia agrees. “And now we need to plan. Our honeymoon, you know?”

“Nope!”

“Henry--”

“We gotta celebrate!”

And they do, Magnus pulling Lucretia along with the other couples to a massive celebration that, they are assured, pales in comparison to the festival tomorrow. Lucretia eventually relaxes, figuring that they don’t have anything to plan with anyway, and ends up in an in-depth conversation about arcane interaction with several woman, while their husbands, wives, and partners talk in their own groups about everything and anything. She’s still attached to Magnus with the ribbon, which apparently doesn’t come off until after the festival, and he regularly leans over and puts one big hand around Lucretia’s, the scars and calluses a familiar roughness against her skin.

It’s nice, she thinks, a lot better than any wedding she ever imagined.

Somehow, all the teasing jokes from the rest of their family still on the Starblaster don’t even sting.

*

The next day, they join the stream of people heading into the necromantic complex, the walls tall and threatening. The guards ring the edges of the crowds of people, their black uniforms edged in purple and clearly visible everywhere Lucretia looks. She opted for a practical outfit made from her wedding dress today, Taako coaching her through the transmutation spell over the stone. Magnus is in the same sleeveless tuxedo, his weapons hidden. Lucretia’s wand is a comforting pressure against her back from where she concealed it.

“Excuse me,” she says, tugging Magnus away from yet another jerky stand towards a knowledgeable-looking man wearing an aubergine costume and a hat that says GUIDE. “Can you tell us where the main event is taking place?”

“Got an interest in the Grand Aubergine, eh?” the man says genially. “You and your man looking to be inducted today, perhaps?”

“Yep!” Magnus says, beaming and wrapping an arm around Lucretia’s shoulder. “I just love my wife so much, you know?”

Lucretia barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes, but the man is beaming right back. “Oh, I do love seeing young people in love,” he says. He points towards the center of the compound, through the booths full of necromancy-themed games and food stalls rich with cooking meat and sweet pastries. “Straight through to the middle to the circle, you can’t miss it. But just in case…” he hands them a flyer that includes a map of the festival grounds. “Blessings of the Goddess!”

“Blessings on you as well,” Lucretia says, nodding. “Thank you.” She lets Magnus steer her away from the guide and back into the crowd before she speaks again. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

“But it’s true!” Magnus protests. “I do love you, and you’re my wife now!” he winks. “They don’t have to know it’s platonic.”

“This is so goddamn sweet I’m gonna get a cavity,” Taako says through the modified stones in their ears. “Lup! Hey Lup! You done with the wedding cake yet?”

“Shut up, Taako,” Magnus mutters in the guise of whispering into Lucretia’s ear.

“I want buttercream frosting,” Lucretia says, deadpan.

“You know it, babe!” comes Lup’s distant voice through the stone.

“I mean, natch, what do you take us for? Do you think we would use _fondant_?”

“Focus,” comes Davenport. “Any sign of Barry?”

“None yet,” Lucretia murmurs, covering it by checking the map. “The guide said something about a circle?”

“Hey Lucy, you want some kebabs?”

“Sure,” Lucretia says absently. The map is far from detailed, but she doesn’t like the combination of necromancy and circles. Her thought process is interrupted when Magnus thrusts a skewer full of meat and roasted vegetables (if she had to guess, she’s put money on aubergines) in front of her face. “Oh. Thanks. I don’t like this.”

“What, the kebabs?”

“What? No, the kebabs are fine. I mean the circle.”

“Aw, it’ll be fine,” Magnus says grandly, munching on his own kebabs. “We got this!”

They do not, in fact, got it.

Lucretia’s not a necromancer, but it’s hard to share a ship with Barold J Bluejeans for fifty-two cycles and not pick up a thing or two, and the circle in front of them is screaming out bad news. It’s enormous, for one thing, more than twice the size of the entire small town they had been in, and every inch of it is intricately detailed with painstakingly drawn runes in this world’s version of Infernal. It’s not complete, more of the purple-robed priestesses working with the black-robed necromancers to etch in the proper runes. But there are two things that are more important than the circle which draw their attention, both of them pointing one out to the other at the same time: hanging in a wrought iron cage above the center of the circle is a bored-looking Barry, who, true to form, is calling down suggestions for more efficient spellcasting. The other is, dangling quite close to his cage, is the Light.

“Let’s go get him,” Magnus says, pulling Lucretia through the crowd using the ribbon still tying them together at the wrist.

“Hold on!” Lucretia says, digging in her heels. It’s like trying to stop a fantasy bulldozer for all the good it does, but the gesture is enough that Magnus stops and looks back at her.

“What?”

“You rush in and you’re going to get all of us killed,” Lucretia hisses, tugging him. “Pay attention! Doesn’t this look like a summoning circle?”

Magnus shrugs, but at least he’s stopped. “I dunno all that nerd shit.”

“I don’t either--”

“HA!” says Magnus, and also Taako through the stone.

“Okay, fair,” Lucretia admits. “But that’s a summoning circle, and it’s _big_. And look,” she gestures up towards Barry and the Light with her eyes. “Don’t they look like… bait?”

“All the more reason to go get them!”

But before Magnus can move, a deep gong rings out and everyone turns as one and heads for the circle, pushing Magnus and Lucretia along. He wraps his arm around her waist so that they don’t get separated, and they end up at the very edge of the circle.

“Ladies, gentlemen, non-applicable,” a voice booms. “Welcome to the Feast of the Grand Aubergine!” Massive cheering from the whole crowd, except Barry, who is still mocking their circle, and Lucretia and Magnus, who exchange nervous glances.

The voice continues, now noticeable as coming from a black-robed figure who Lucretia recognizes (from their attempt to grab the Light and run) as the High Iris, the leader of the necromantic cult. “We have two remarkable sacrifices for our great goddess!”

More cheering.

“One, this object of great power, the shimmering, beautiful, Violet of the Cosmos!”

Still more cheering, and now Magnus is starting to shuffle around towards the group of other necromantic wizards and priestesses, pulling Lucretia along behind him.

“And this mysterious interloper, who tried to steal the Violet!”

Loud booing, while Barry just offers a bored wave towards the crowd, pushing up his glasses.

“The ceremony will now commence!” the High Iris booms.

“Welp!” Magnus says, and starts running, pulling Lucretia behind him.

“Magnus, wait!”

The circle of inscribed runes comes alive with pulsating purple light, shining in a way that hurts Lucretia’s eyes. It pulses once, twice, and alights with purple fire, rising in shimmering runes up into the air. Lucretia sighs and yanks on the ribbon.

“What’s up?” Magnus calls back, amidst the excited shouts of the crowd and the rumbling coming from far beneath the earth. Barry, still in the cage, catches sight of them and starts yelling, but his voice is lost in the chaos.

“You’re going to dislocate my arm,” she says. She casts around and uses a Mage Hand to grab two shots of some bubbling, extremely alcoholic liquid from a nearby stand. “Magnus?”

“Hell yeah.”

They clink and take the shots together, Lucretia gasping as the liquor burns down her throat.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do Raspberry.”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Magnus stops and Lucretia takes a jump and lands on his back. She scrambles up to his shoulders and stays low so he can still use his arm to fight.

“Okay, go,” she says, and Magnus takes off again. Lucretia pulls her wand out in one fluid motion and aims a Scorching Ray at the center of the circle, firing it off just as the necromancers take notice. It sears across the runes, shooting off painful bursts of purple fire as it connects with the runes. A distant, furious scream sounds from below the earth.

“Hey Creesh, we got company!” Magnus says, pulling out his axe and taking a swing at the nearest priestess, who is sprinting towards them, wielding two daggers.

“Yep,” Lucretia says, straightening up on Magnus’s shoulders. She thanks the gods and her mother than she’s ambidextrous and throws her spare wand as hard as she can. It connects perfectly, Barry throwing his hand out and snatching it from the air. Another moment, with Magnus swiping through the priestess while still balancing Lucretia on his shoulders, and then Barry comes bursting out of the cage, wand ablaze.

“No!” the High Iris howls, rising into the air and sweeping towards them.

Barry lands with a solid thump in the middle of the circle and does his best to wreck shop, which, given his closeness with chaos goddess Lup and the more than half a century of practice, he does very, very well.

The crowd, having noticed that something is going very wrong, has taken one collective look at the Magnus-Lucretia megaperson and the spluttering, destabilizing summoning circle and decided to make a run for it, luckily getting the potential innocents out of their way.

“Down, please,” Lucretia says, now that there’s space.

“Certainly, dear wife.”

“Thank you, husband.”

“What the fuck is happening?” Taako is hollering through the stone.

Lucretia mutes it with a tap of her wand as she and Magnus face down the approaching horde of necromancers and priestesses, side by side. Magnus strikes down the closest enemies while Lucretia fires bolt after bolt into the crowd. She conjures a shield to block a crossbow bolt from Magnus’s head while he makes a truly spectacular dex save and snatches a thrown dagger out of the air seconds from hitting Lucretia in the eye.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re so good to me,” Lucretia says as dryly as she can, tearing a hole through a necromancer with a particularly well-placed Thunderwave.

“Only the best for you, honey,” Magnus says back, throwing the knife he had just caught and spearing a priestess in the throat.

Barry meanwhile is fucking up the circle, and blasts his way to join them. “Hi guys.”

“Hey Barold!”

“You alright, Barry?”

“I can’t believe you two got married without me.”

“Spur of the moment thing,” Magnus says with a shrug, yanking on the ribbon to pull Lucretia out of the way of a nasty-looking bolt of necrotic energy. “You know how it goes.”

“Purple looks good on you, Creesh.”

“Thanks.”

Back to back to back, Team Human proceeds to destroy the rest of the cult. Their last enemy is the High Iris, hovering above them, crackling bolts of purple-hued necrotic energy flying off him.

“Hey, Magnus,” Lucretia says, eyes on the cult leader.

“Yeah?”

“I want a divorce.”

Barry grins and slices through the purple ribbon.

“How dare you?” the High Iris howls.

“Was it something I said?” Magnus asks mournfully as he picks up Lucretia.

“Irreconcilable differences,” Lucretia says as Barry hands her his sword.

“I can change!” Magnus wails as he throws Lucretia straight at the High Iris. Lucretia hears Barry shout a buffing spell, possibly picked up from Merle, and she strikes the leader’s head clean off his shoulders. She crashes to the ground on top of the destroyed circle, not quite able to catch her feet in time as Magnus and Barry cheer, running towards her.

“Shit, Creesh, you okay?” Magnus says.

“ _Fuck_ the Grand Aubergine,” Lucretia growls, spitting out dust and blood.

“You know what’s wild?” Barry says, grabbing the Light with a casual Mage Hand.

“What?”

“Their goddess actually _is_ a giant Infernal eggplant.”

“Fantasy Jesus Christ,” Lucretia says as Magnus helps her up.

“Does this mean we can’t have our wedding cake?” he asks, pouting while Barry calls the Starblaster.

“If you think I’m not milking this wedding thing for as much as it’s worth, you’re dead wrong,” Lucretia says. “Dear husband.”

“That’s my wife!” Magnus yells, scooping her up again.

“Yeah, but Magnus?”

“Hmmm?”

“No eggplants.”

“No,” he agrees, before a devilish smile spreads over his face. “Well, maybe _one_ kind of eggplant, if you know what I mean!”

“I want another divorce.”

“Nooooooo!!!!”

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to my good good friend Tori!! hope you enjoy team human's escapades
> 
> comments/kudos, hell yeah
> 
> thanks i love you bye!


End file.
